CHAPTER NINE:
The Siege of Valley Forge
The late 1930s and early 1940s saw the first
manifestations of real crowd-control problems at Valley Forge,
particularly in the spring, when the impressive concentration of
flowering dogwood trees dedicated to Washington and his army drew almost
a million visitors annually. A 1936 memo decreed: "We cannot allow
visitors all the time they may desire. They must be satisfied with such
view as they get moving along or else our physical task will be too
difficult." [1]
How to deal with the hordes of visitors as well as
people who wanted to locate permanently at Valley Forge became a key
park issue between the 1950s and 1976 as the general area became
increasingly developed. Concurrent bad press, financial problems, and
trouble between the park commission and its parent organization caused
individuals involved at Valley Forge and concerned members of the
community to develop a kind of siege mentality. When the National Park
Service took over Valley Forge on July 4, 1976, its uniformed rangers
were welcomed like the cavalry arriving at a besieged frontier town.
An era of highway-building opened immediately after
World War II, soon bringing a modern high-speed artery to the very edge
of Valley Forge State Park. In 1944, land in Upper Merion Township was
condemned to make way for the Pennsylvania Turnpike. A local editorial
titled "A Threat to Hallowed Acres" acknowledged that highways were
necessary but protested that "few persons are of the opinion that these
adjuncts of the twentieth century should be permitted to disfigure those
shrines which are a part of this nation's glorious past." [2] For almost a year, the park commissioners
had been trying to second-guess what effect the turnpike would have on
Valley Forge, but they made no official protest. [3] And indeed, other than making the park more
easily reached by travelers from distant parts of the state, the new
road brought no real changes to Valley Forge.
Change would come once the Schuylkill Expressway
provided a high-speed route from the turnpike's Valley Forge exit
directly to downtown Philadelphia. The expressway had evolved from plans
for a "Valley Forge Parkway," proposed as early as 1930 to link Valley
Forge and Fairmount Park. [4] After World
War II, the expressway was again proposed as an alternative to widening
existing roadways. Its planned route was to follow the Schuylkill River
to Gulph Mills, where it would join a yet-to-be-built Route 202 near
Valley Forge State Park. Construction began in 1950, and the Schuylkill
Expressway officially opened in 1958. On the very first day, traffic
became snarled, but the road system then in place made it inevitable
that the village near Valley Forge with the peculiar name "King of
Prussia" would become a major hub of commercial and industrial
development, a kind of satellite community outside the city of
Philadelphia.

Fig. 27. Valley Forge in the spring
during the 1940s. Flowering dogwood is one of the park's attractions.
(Courtesy, Valley Forge National Historical Park)
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As the King of Prussia area was developed, still more
highways were needed to handle the traffic, and the impact of
development on Valley Forge increased. Park commissioners voiced concern
that highways would "strangle" the park [5]
and unsuccessfully protested the building of a giant cloverleaf near the
park's eastern entrance. [6] In 1965,
another highway called the County Line Expressway (Route 422) divided
what little remained of Port Kennedy, leaving nothing but a church, a
deteriorating mansion, and a few structures near the old railroad
station, all of them strangely separated by roads that were almost
impossible for pedestrians to cross. The volume of traffic through the
park also increased, posing new threats to some well-known landmarks. In
1967, the one-lane covered bridge spanning Valley Creek, which had been
built in 1865 and restored as recently as 1960, was closed for several
weeks after an overloaded tractor trailer attempted to cross it, almost
completely knocking out one of its sides. [7]
Businesses hastened to locate at this new, convenient
thoroughfare, and many of them wanted the cachet of a Valley Forge
address. Around 1960, efforts were made to build a new post office in
Valley Forge village, which would also accommodate tourists who wanted a
Valley Forge stamp cancellation. Kenneth D. Wells of the Freedoms
Foundation protested, expressing in a letter his desire that the
proposed post office would not serve the new industrial areas of King of
Prussia, or make a Valley Forge address available to those outside the
"confines of the reservation." [8]
Nevertheless, the new post office was dedicated in 1964, a
Colonial-style building designed to blend tastefully into its noble
surroundings. [9]
In 1962, the Freedoms Foundation approved plans for
commercial development on property just west of Valley Forge. These
plans would have enabled a builder to erect a concentration of shops, a
restaurant, "sleeping units," and a theater. [10] Park commissioners joined with others
involved at Valley Forge in protesting what they considered an attack on
the park's still-undeveloped western border. Historian John Reed
protested to Schuylkill Township supervisors: "Freedoms Foundation, by
its own admission, chose to site itself at Valley Forge because of the
historical allusions of the place. It seems to me that it is a shame
that the Foundation should be allowed, or should even wish, to pervert
those allusions by selling property for the proposed [11] The proposed shops never
materialized.
Certain members of the local community reacted to the
threat of development with a plan to surround Valley Forge with a buffer
circle of land divided into fifty parcels on which each state could
erect a building of Georgian design that tourists could visit and that
could provide housing for visiting students. The plan may have been
inspired by world's fair structures or perhaps by the Colonial-style
campus being erected at the Freedoms Foundation. A 1967 pamphlet titled
"Valley Forge Crisis" proclaimed that the shrine was "threatened by a
booming urban build-up that is taking place in the King of Prussia
area." [12] Joseph Perron, whose name
appeared on the pamphlet, presented the idea to the park commission in
1968. The DAR had already introduced the plan to the director of the
Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, [13] and there were other supporters too,
including renowned novelist James Michener. [14] The park commissioners withheld their
support, claiming that such plans were out of their purview, but
commission minutes suggested hope that the same effect could be achieved
if Montgomery and Chester counties would each locate a community college
on the park's perimeter, [15] Without the
park commissioners' active support, the grassroots buffer plan was
abandoned by the end of the year. [16]
The park commissioners continued to deal with each
new development project bordering the park as a separate issue. The park
commission deemed plans for a Dutch Inns Motel adjacent to the park
"undesirable," contending that such an establishment would sell liquor
and create additional traffic problems. [17] Park officials contacted local residents
and other interested parties to oppose the zoning changes that would
allow such a motel. [18] They succeeded in
quashing plans for the motel, later opposing a second motel plan and a
youth hostel as "not in keeping" with Valley Forge Park. [19]
The commissioners' opinions were initially divided
when plans were presented for the Sheraton Hotel and Convention Center,
a much larger operation than anything previously proposed, but one that
would be located a bit southeast of the park's main entrance. [20] Citizens protested what was rumored to
become a complex of high-rise buildings almost overlooking the park. One
couple objected to the encroachment of commercialism on a "national
treasure" where "peace and beauty refresh the spirit; its very existence
remind[ing] us of a proud moment in our nation's history." [21] Park commissioners declared that they
would not oppose zoning changes if the Sheraton would be no taller than
six or seven stories. [22] The Sheraton,
of course, eventually stretched much higher than that; it was and is
visible from Outer Line Drive. Once the Sheraton complex was completed,
the park commissioners were more vocal in resisting another affront, a
proposed 15-foot-high rotating sign on top of the building. [23]
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